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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23796091">Transformed by the Essence of the Art</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Louffox/pseuds/Louffox'>Louffox</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aftermath of Violence, Angst, Blood, Everything Hurts, Hurt No Comfort, Infection, M/M, Pre-Established Relationship, blue veins, it's just sad joe, no beta we die like men, the fox SCREAMS</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 23:02:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>655</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23796091</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Louffox/pseuds/Louffox</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Oscar lay down beside him as he bled on the floor. </p>
<p>"<b>Did you think I would kill you?</b>" he asked, eyes full of that coy mischief he'd once hated furiously and now loved even more so.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Zolf Smith/Oscar Wilde</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>41</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Transformed by the Essence of the Art</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Title from Apotheosis by Kai Straw.</p>
<p>CW the angst isn't the only thing catching.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Zolf struggled to breathe around the blood in his mouth. Where was it all coming from? It was his, that he knew. Maybe he'd broken a tooth. Bit his tongue. His adrenaline was so high, he could hardly feel his wounds. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But what he could feel was enough. To know.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They weren't lethal.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He'd survived so much: the fury of the sky, the hunger of the earth. Again and again. Storms, stabbings, struck by lightning, severed at the knees. Each time, he'd been filled with a desire to live like a screaming solid core, an utter refusal to cease to be. He survived it all. And now he would survive this too.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He desperately wished he wouldn't.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He could see his own blood spreading under his cheek, flat on the floor, catching flecks of dust and lint and stone, staining the office floorboards. The magic held him down, made him helpless to listen to the slow movement around him, above him, until shoes stopped in his line of sight.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He couldn't even look away.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The feet moved, and there was the sound of shuffling. Familiar hands on the floor, hands that belonged to his body just as much as his own. That probably loved him more than his own. Knees and elbows, lowering gently, until Oscar laid on the floor beside him, mirroring him, looking into his face. Neither of them seemed able to blink. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Zolf's gaze was agonized, desperate, pleading.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oscar's gaze was curious and hungry.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"You should've killed me when you had the chance. But you wanted this, didn't you? A fair fight. You couldn’t bear to massacre me, put me down like an animal. How noble. You know better," Oscar's voice said. "You wanted me to </span>
  <b>kill you</b>
  <span>."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Zolf couldn't speak, only breathe around the bubbling blood in his mouth. His air was regular and calm, belying none of the screaming terror and rage he felt. Helpless. Pinned. It wasn't the first time the weight of Oscar's gaze had pinned him, but it would be the last. He hoped it would be the last.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Oscar pillowed his head on his hands candidly, wiggling his chin a bit, getting comfortable. His voice was lilting and conversational. "I could watch you die like this."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Zolf still could not scream.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"You would like that, wouldn't you? Dying with my face the last thing you see. Going out in the line of fire. Doing the good work. Ducking out and not having to deal with seeing me walking around and breaking the world. You won't have to see me commit atrocities or turn everything inside out. You can just slip away, lost to a love turned against you."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His lip curled. "</span>
  <b>How romantic</b>
  <span>."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"I'm not going to give you what you want, Zolf. That's what you know more than anything else. That's what you ought to expect by now. You don't get what you want. </span>
  <b>It doesn't work that way</b>
  <span>."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He scooted forward, mouth starting to cant up in the beginnings of a soul-renderingly familiar proud smirk. Zolf used to kiss that smirk off his face. He knew what it felt like on his own lips, against his skin, knew how morning sunlight or darkvision shaded that smirking mouth.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He struggled to recall their last kiss. He hadn’t known at the time that it would be their last. You never know until after. Why hadn’t he kissed him more? Because now he never… he would never again… they would never...</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He moved closer, and Zolf. Still. Could not. Scream.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"I saw that. You know what I'm going to do, </span>
  <b>don't you?</b>
  <span>"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The smirk twisted into a full smile, that smile that once had been the light of Zolf's life. The reason he continued to survive.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And even now, it would still ensure he survived.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The thing in Oscar's skin wasn't going to let him die.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Instead, he tilted his chin and pressed his lips to Zolf's.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>If I become someone else after this<br/>Trust me it wasn't by accident<br/>And I don't mean my soul will change but<br/>The way I'm perceived will go through changes<br/>The Greeks once said<br/>That in each sunset is a God that competes, some said<br/>With the artist, and if that artist brought us<br/>A painting of the sunset, does that mean he caught him?<br/>And then he's viewed as more than a man is<br/>Cause he caught a God with a brush and a canvas<br/>And does that take a toll on the painter?<br/>Did he catch a God or did God catch his paint brush?</p>
<p>Thanks to the Wilde Ride. I think. I'm... grateful? Also dying? You guys made me write this on my phone in a discord channel in like six minutes. That's all on you. Anyways yall are great, keep crimeing, you ghouls o7</p></blockquote></div></div>
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